Conté Colors
by ladymori
Summary: Seven different drabbles, seven different colors in the rainbow. One for each member of the royal Conté family. [all children included]


_Summary:_ Okay, this is a little challenge I issued to myself – seven colors in the rainbow, seven members of the Conté family (I'm counting Jon and Thayet as a unit). So, I wrote seven drabbles, each featuring a different member. Any feedback at all will be adored.

**I. Red**

Lianne wore red for eight days straight after Kally went to Carthak. Red was her sister's favorite color, and this was the only way Lianne knew how to grieve. She was not one for tears; she refused to bury her head in her pillow and cry.

She wanted to be angry, to see red, to yell at her parents for making Kally leave. To throw things, to slam doors, to make her parents ashamed.

But she couldn't be angry; she could be nothing but sad. Kally chose Kaddar, chose Carthak. It was Kally alone who decided to leave her.

**II. Orange**

It was an endless sea of orange, sand stretching for miles and curling like waves around the small palace. She had been living in his mother's home for nearly a year, and it felt much like a world painted by an artist who had run out of inspiration.

Kally sighed, turning away from the window. "I miss trees," she announced without thinking.

Kaddar smiled and sat next to her, leg pressing warmly against her own. He tugged at an amber eardrop. "There are trees at the palace."

She looked at him, eyebrow raised, and he took a deep breath. "Perhaps you would feel more comfortable there?"

**III. Yellow**

Liam took after his mother, warm hazel eyes flecked with too much yellow. He felt like an outsider in the palace, a foreigner among his siblings with the famous Conté blue.

His mother found him one morning, huddled into a corner of the portrait gallery. Looking up at her with damp eyes, he whispered, "Even my name- it isn't family either." He knew about Grandmothers Lianne and Kalasin, Grandfather Roald. Vanias and Jassons decorated the walls, but there were no Liams. "I don't belong."

Thayet collected him into her arms, kissing away his tears. "Never say that. You are named for a hero, a great warrior. A dragon." When she saw he was still upset, she gave him a smile and tweaked his nose. "As long as I belong in this family, you will belong here right next to me."

**IV. Green**

Prince Jasson of Tortall was the only Conté child to possess his very own army. He prized them above everything else he owned- one hundred wooden toy soldiers dressed in uniforms of green and silver.

When his father wasn't busy with meetings and advisors, they played together in the nursery, Jasson kneeling eagerly and Jonathan laid out flat on his stomach.

"You know how you have the King's Own?" Jasson asked distractedly, rearranging his defense of green. "These can be the Prince's Own."

"Your personal protectors," Jonathan grinned, moving his soldiers forward.

Jasson eyed his troops, then picked up a general with a chipped nose and held it out to his father. "To protect you too."

**V. Blue**

Because he was shy, preferring to listen rather than to speak, many of the pages and squires wrote Roald of Conté off as 'stiffer than a plank of wood.' While it was an honor when he sat and ate with them, they were never too concerned or bothered when he didn't. He was quiet and unreadable, and this was why no one knew what went on in his mind.

He spent his nights in silence, chin in his hands as he stared at a painting. It was Keladry of Mindelan's Midwinter gift, a landscape of pale blues and foggy greens from the Yamani Islands. Taking in the colors and the culture, he thought about his upcoming marriage to an imperial bride- the painting was his only connection to her.

A tentative finger touched the smoky blue of the water, and he was disappointed to realize he wasn't filled with a sense of calm over his upcoming nuptials. Kel said that was how Yamanis felt when viewing lily ponds and paintings, and Roald hoped it wasn't a bad sign already.

**VI. Indigo**

The youngest Conté child was a force to be reckoned with. Her attentions shifted like the wind, but she threw all of her energies into her interests until she rivaled a hurricane. Vania's latest phase began when her mother presented her with an indigo gown for Midwinter- a deliciously deep color, the material a mixture of silks and velvets.

After that, Vania declared she would only eat indigo colored foods. This consisted mostly of blueberries and plums, but the Crown cooks were visionaries in the kitchen. Served in thick cream, baked in breads and tortes, sugared until they resembled fruity, glittering gems, they came up with new recipes and ways to feed the youngest princess daily.

One day, Lianne found her just as she was finishing her breakfast. "You'll turn into a blueberry soon enough," her sister taunted, "With indigo colored skin."

Vania's fingertips were already stained purple with juice, and her round cheeks flushed scarlet. The vain little girl went back to eating regular foods, and her mother never understood why she refused to wear her favorite indigo dress ever again.

**VII. Violet**

The dinner table was covered with various flower centerpieces, an abundance of silverware, and an unhealthy amount of paperwork. King Jonathan and Queen Thayet had set aside an evening – the entire evening – to devote to romantic endeavors, starting with a meal just between the two of them. Unfortunately, half of the needed party was absent; the Queen hadn't arrived although dinner had been scheduled to start nearly an hour ago.

Jonathan was using the extra time to catch up with paperwork; he was afraid Gary would deem it important enough to barge in and interrupt something _much_ more important later that night.

The door eased open, and a tentative Thayet entered with a whisper of silk. Jon looked up and set down his quill. Dressed in a violet dress, her face was flushed and hair fell haphazardly out of pins. The hem of the gown was frayed, long tears in the fabric and one of the sleeves nearly ripped off.

She blushed. "It was a Rider call…" She smoothed down her skirts self-consciously.

Jon stood, gathering her hands in his. "You look beautiful."


End file.
